Sights from around Crooked Acres.
We finally got a couple of blueberry bushes to go with the one we already had, and Fred planted them in the back yard. They’re still tiny, but it looks like we’re actually going to get a handful of blueberries this year! Too cool.
Chicken yard after we carried off as much of the greenery and smaller limbs as we could. Where those big logs are laying is what used to be part of the chicken yard. We’re going to need professionals to come cut up the rest of the wood and cart it off – Fred’s chainsaw is a good one, but not THAT good.
Hackleburg, Alabama is about 80 miles from us. They were hit hard by the tornadoes, and when I called and talked to the shelter manager about Dorothy and where she could have possibly come from, Susan joked that “Maybe she was blown up from Hackleburg!”
Imagine my surprise yesterday, when I was walking around taking pictures, to find a packing slip laying in the yard.
Someone asked at some point whether the babies are still hissing at me. They stopped hissing right around the time their eyes opened, and I haven’t heard a hiss from them (toward me, anyway) since. These days, when they see or hear me, they come running over, start climbing my legs, and howl their little heads off.
I’ll try to get that on video for you. It’s quite the cacophony, let me tell you.
If you’d like to compare, here they are the day they were born:
And at three days old:
2010: “I YAM A FEARSOME MONSTER! HEAR ME ROAR!”
2009: And speaking of our house and smells, whoever thought it would be a good idea to put the air intake vent for the downstairs air/ heating system directly across the hall from the bathroom?
2008: If that man cripples me with the sledgehammer, y’all make sure he gets me the LUXURY wheelchair.
2007: No entry.
2006: “Motherfucker say WHAT? You wanna prance?”
2005: Did you know you could use it to relieve muscle soreness, as a plant fertilizer, and as a laxative?
2004: Okay, girlfriend? Just how fucking stupid ARE you?
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: God, please tell me when I was 19 I didn’t sound that much like an airhead…